


At the Ends of the Earth

by BrenanaBread



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Almost identity reveal, Building trust, F/M, Family Bonding, Friends to Lovers, Guardian!Marinette, LadyNoir - Freeform, Marinette learning about the miraculous, Partners to Lovers, childhood miraculous wielders, from her mother, guardian!Sabine, kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:28:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27053413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrenanaBread/pseuds/BrenanaBread
Summary: When Marinette is only nine years old, she becomes the ladybug miraculous wielder, inheriting the role from her mother. She's known about the miraculous all her life and has studied them for years.When Adrien is only nine years old, he finds a ring in a box in a storage facility. He doesn't know what compels him to put it on—doesn't understand the strange buzzing he feels under his skin—but he can't put it down.When they meet at fifteen, they can't escape the pull they feel towards each other. Though Marinette wants answers and Adrien finds it difficult to trust, they realize they're stronger together than they ever could have been apart.(Ladynoir)
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 19
Kudos: 129





	At the Ends of the Earth

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the ML Pandemic Relief Zine!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

_ Seven Years Ago _   
  
“What do you think?” Sabine asks, hand gently stroking Marinette’s hair.    
  
“They’re pretty.” Marinette tucks the strands behind her ears with clumsy fingers, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Shiny black earrings blink at her as she twists her head side-to-side, trying to get used to them. They feel strange in her lobes, heavy with the weight of responsibility.   
  
Sabine takes Marinette’s chin in her hand, turning her face gently. “They’ve been in our family for generations.” Her voice is soft and serene, a balm to Marinette’s heated skin. “But I think they still look stylish.”   
  
“I’ll make them work, maman.”

“You always do.” She presses a kiss to her daughter’s forehead, lingering for a moment. “You’re so strong, Marinette. Stronger than anyone I know.”

Marinette smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s used to the heartfelt praise, but never quite comfortable with it.“I think Papa’s bulging muscles might have something to say about that.”

Sabine laughs. “Strong as an ox, delicate as a flower, that man. But I know he’d agree with me. Your inner strength is so beautiful, Marinette. Don’t hide it.”

“I won’t.”   
  
“I know this is a lot to handle. You’re so young.” She takes Marinette’s small hand in her own and squeezes. “We’ll go out tonight together, how does that sound?”   
  
“Okay, maman,” she nods. “Tonight.”   
  
“Have you been practicing your yoyo tricks?”   


“Of course!”   
  
“Then we’ll test out your yoyo on the balcony after dinner,” Sabine says with finality.   
  
“Can’t wait.” Marinette knows her voice is weak and betrays her hesitance at accepting the heirloom. It’s too much pressure. She’s never felt younger than when she first held those earrings in the palm of her hand, knowing the power they held. Even with her mother’s assurances that she will be fine, Marinette can’t help but shudder knowing she’s the only line of defense if someone tries to harm Paris.

A miraculous is a heavy weight to hold.

* * *

“I’m trying,” Marinette whines, yoyo hanging limply by her side. 

“I know you are, dear, but these things take time. Practice.”   
  
“We’ve been out here for  _ hours _ .”

“It’s been thirty minutes,” Sabine laughs, taking the string from her daughter’s hands. “But that can be enough for today.” She flicks her wrist and the yoyo bounces up, winded perfectly. 

“Show off,” Marinette mumbles.

“I had the ladybug miraculous for 25 years, I’m allowed to show off.”

Marinette sits on the end of the chaise, closing her eyes with a heavy sigh. “Are you sure I can do this, Maman?”   
  
“I am.”   
  
“But  _ how _ ? How do you know?”

“Some things you can just feel, Marinette. In your entire being.” 

“I wish I could feel things.”

“You will,  _ mon amour _ . You will.” She pats Marinette’s knee reassuringly. “Now how about we go check on that cake your father hinted at? I’m sure it’s done by now.”

* * *

“Adrien,” Gabriel Agreste slides his hand down his face, openly straining to keep his voice calm. “Please stop touching the fabric. I’ve told you this too many times already, the warehouse is not a  _ playground _ . I don’t have time for this today.”   
  
Adrien’s lower lip wobbles as he stuffs the swatches back into their container, turning his face away so his father doesn’t see the tears gathering on his lashes.

“Sorry, father.”

Gabriel dismisses him with a wave of his hand and a soft _ tsk  _ and Adrien has to hold himself back from running to the adjoining room. He’s always hated the warehouse with its giant grey walls and rows of neatly piled boxes, stacked against all corners of the room. It’s stuffy and the air always feels stale. The piles loom like monsters over his head and he often finds himself lost amongst the same dreary colors and repeating patterns. There’s no life in the warehouse and he feels suffocated by it. 

He wanders out of the main room, turning down a hallway lit with flickering yellow lights and chipping tiles. There’s a small room usually stocked with water bottles and cheap biscuits and just a bit farther down is the bathrooms, but Adrien stomps past them without noticing. He’s still trying to convince the tears not to fall and berating himself for not controlling his emotions better. The cracks in the walls slide past his vision and the hallway dims as the overhead lights get more and more broken the farther he walks.

It isn’t until he reaches the very end of the hallway that he notices anything strange. There are several rooms with “Danger: Keep Out” posted above his eye-level and he vaguely remembers being told about “boilers” and “voltages.”    
  
But he’s done listening to rules.

Adrien barges into the room and runs straight to the corner, folding in on himself as he lets the sobs overtake him. His tiny fists pound on the floor until he’s lost all energy and flops flat on the ground, tiles hard and cold against the back of his head.    
  
Bringing his hands to his face to wipe at the damp skin, his elbow hits into an unstable pile of boxes, knocking them to the ground. There’s a clang of hard plastic and metal crashing onto linoleum, but his eyes are captured by a small wooden box. It rests on its side, intricate, red carvings staring straight through him and drawing him near. He picks it up hesitantly, gentle fingers lifting the lid and uncovering an unassuming, silver ring. 

He doesn’t know what compels him—be it curiosity or defiance or destiny—but he slips it on his finger. Right hand, fourth finger from the left, cool metal warming against his blotchy skin. He makes a fist, staring at the new adornment intently. He feels...something. A slight buzz shooting to his fingertip. An energy flowing through his body. It’s subtle, like the taste of the air after a storm, but he can’t ignore it. He feels primed, ready for something to happen.

But nothing does.

* * *

_ Five Years Ago _ _  
_ _  
_ “Who wielded the ox miraculous in the 15th century?”   
  
The pen Marinette taps against the dining room table doesn’t miss a beat as she answers. “Jacques Vouthe, friend of the ladybug miraculous wielder, Jeanne d’Arc.”   
  
“Correct. When was the last recorded use of the black cat miraculous?”   
  
“The last use was in 1820 and the miraculous went missing in 1844.”   
  
“Perfect. What abilities are granted by the tiger miraculous and what happens when it is used in combination with the pig miraculous?”   
  
Her head droops and the heel of her hands press into her eyes “Maman,  _ please _ we’ve been at this for hours. I know all of it already.”   
  
“Just a few more, sweetheart. We can’t relax your training just yet, you’re carrying a huge res—”   
  
“A huge responsibility, the weight of the world on my shoulders, a delicate balance on the line, protecting immeasurable power, I  _ know _ .” She sighs and her bangs flutter across her forehead.

“Give the poor girl a break.” Tom carefully maneuvers into the room, leaning down to drop a kiss on the crown of his wife’s head and places a large plate on the table. “Besides, I need our little girl’s refined palate! What do you think of these? I made them special for you.”   
  
“You’re right.” Sabine smiles and grabs the topmost pastry, setting aside the stack of papers she’d been reading from. “They smell divine, dear.”   
  
Marinette devours the treat in her hand. “They’re incredible, Papa!” 

“Good enough to sell?” he asks, pulling a notepad and pencil out of his apron pocket “Because I was thinki—”   
  
Marinette lunges for the plate. “Not if I eat them all first!”

* * *

_ Present Day _   
  
Adrien’s world is held together by strings.

When his mother first started coughing, he was told it was only a cold. 

She’d brushed his hair out of his eyes and smiled at him, all the while saying , “I’m fine,  _ mon cœur _ ” and “Everything is all right.”   
  
He shouldn’t have believed her.

When the headaches began, Adrien wasn’t even allowed to see her anymore. Bedridden in a matter of weeks and confined to the hospital soon after, his mother disappeared from his life as if he was nothing more than a spectator.   
  
Adrien never complained. He trusted the doctors knew what they were doing. He trusted his father was only trying to protect him. He trusted the too-white walls and the too-empty house imprisoning him.

But he shouldn’t have.

_ It’s too sunny, _ Adrien thinks, the day of his mother’s funeral. He’s lost the center of his whole world, but the earth continues to revolve around its own. He wishes for another glimpse of her golden hair, just one more peek of sunshine.

Darkness surrounds him even in the light.

* * *

_ One Month Later _   
  
“Shoot,” Ladybug groans, her yoyo pulling tighter around a pigtail as she tries to tug herself free.

It’s been years since she’s gone out with her mother, but that doesn’t stop Ladybug from wishing she had someone by her side to help untangle her hair.    
  
“You always do this to yourself,” she chides, attempting to pull the tool far enough away to see what she’s doing. “Sloppy sloppy  _ sloppy _ .”   
  
“Need some help?”

Ladybug jumps and twists in the air, dropping the yoyo and yelping as its weight pulls on her hair even more. She instinctively kicks at the intruder, barely even registering her foot is soaring through the air until she hears a startled yelp as the stranger ducks.

“I’ll take that as a no!”   
  
He tries to scramble away, but Ladybug is faster.

She lunges forward, swinging the yoyo dangling from her hair around his waist and reaches out to grasp his hand. He blocks her with his forearm and tries to spin out of her hold, but she throws her leg behind him and he stumbles to the ground. Still attached to him by her hair, she falls on top of him, knees pressed into the ground on either side of his waist and hands holding her face just above his own.

He’s completely still beneath her, eyes blown wide as he stares.   
  
“Who are you?” she asks ,  more to herself than to him. 

He doesn’t answer, but she watches his Adam's apple bob as he gulps and knows he’s heard her. 

Squirming under her weight, he tries to pull himself free but it’s half-hearted. She notices the sharp claws at the ends of his fingers and he doesn’t even threaten to use them on her, just quietly attempts to twist and turn with no real force behind it.

His whole body goes stiff and her eyes are dragged to the black cat ears that twitch in his shaggy hair.

“Someone’s coming,” he says distractedly. 

Taking in the ears atop his head, the strong lines of his suit, and noticing her knee pressing against a belted tail, Ladybug looks at him in wonder.

“You’re the black cat wielder, aren’t you?”

“Someone’s  _ coming _ ,” he repeats and starts trying to throw her off in earnest. 

“What?”

“I need to get out of here  _ now _ .”   
  
She scrambles off of him. “Wait, why—”   
  
“I can’t be found.” He springs to his feet and pulls a staff from behind his back making Ladybug cringe when she thinks about how it must have been digging into him as she held him down.

“Where are you going?”

His shoulders droop and he shakes his head. “I don’t know.” He fumbles with his staff, pressing his thumb against it and scrambling as it expands and retracts in quick succession, clearly not doing what he wants.

She grabs his free hand before he can leave. “Follow me.”

He’s dragged behind her without question.

* * *

“How did you know about this place?”   
  
Ladybug plops herself down on a chair, pushing it away from the rooftop’s edge so she won’t be seen. “I’ve hidden up here for years. Sometimes you just need a place to get away.”

He shuffles awkwardly, not making eye contact. “I think I could use that.”  
  
“Come sit.” She pulls over a stool and pats it, beckoning him to her side. “I have a few questions.”

“Only a few?”

She smiles as he gingerly takes a seat. “Maybe a bit more than a few. But I’m trying not to overwhelm you.”

He twists his belted tail around his wrists and she can tell he isn’t comfortable around her.

“So. You’re the black cat miraculous wielder."

“That’s not a question,” he points out but continues when she sighs heavily. “I guess so.”

“You guess so?”   
  
“I didn’t mean to be,” he shrugs his shoulders, looking at her fleetingly.   
  
“What does that mean?”

“It means I only just found out today that the ring I’ve been wearing for years actually has...magic?” he shakes his head, cat ears bouncing. “I don’t know. I don’t know what any of this is.”

Ladybug studies him carefully, weighing the risks of believing him.

“The black cat miraculous has been missing for over a century,” she tells him, speaking slowly. “We thought it was lost. And you didn’t even know you had it?”

“It sounds insane when you say it like that.” He grumbles, running a hand through his hair and making it stand up on end.

She holds up her hands in mock surrender. “I’m just telling you what I know.”

“It doesn’t make any sense.”

“I don’t get it either. Where did you find it? Why did it suddenly reveal itself to you now? Did you talk to your kwami? ”

He gets up from the stool and begins to pace. His steps are long and quick and they put Ladybug on edge.

“I found it in a warehouse. It was a fabric wholesaler, I thought this was just some random accessory. Worst case scenario, I thought I’d just get in some trouble for stealing or something. I’d no idea I was holding the  _ power of destruction _ in my hands.”

She nods her head knowingly. “So you did talk to your kwami.”

“That’s one way to put it,” he rolls his eyes. “More like I stood there gaping while he talked at me until I was so ready to take it for a test run I practically transformed on instinct.”

“I still don’t understand why.” She shakes her head in confusion. “The miraculous can only be activated by a guardian. Except for cases when the new wielder is in extreme emotional distress...”

He stops at the edge of the building, resting his palms against the concrete parapet. “I don’t know.”

Ladybug isn’t sure what to do. He seems like he’s ready to run at any moment, but he hasn’t yet. She feels like he’s looking for any reason to stay with her, linger for a second longer.

“I know someone who can help.”

“You do?”

She nods, reaching out a hand to touch his arm. “Just come with me. Back to my house. The person who trained me—I know she could help you. I know she’d want to meet you.”

He pulls away from her. “Go to your house? Someone trained you?”

“It’ll be okay, I promi—”

“No! I can’t!” He fumbles away from her outstretched fingers, stepping quickly like her touch would singe his suit.

“Wait, listen to me, please—just follow me.” She steps forward reflexively, and it’s the wrong move. 

“Please, don’t touch me!”   
  
“At least tell me your name!”

He’s jumped off the roof before she can finish the sentence.

* * *

“So.” Ladybug lands on the cobblestone street directly in front of the masked blond. The clouds overhead are dark and ominous with the promise of a storm. She taps her umbrella against the ground in a comforting rhythm. “Are you going to run from me again?”

“Depends. Are you going to try and drag me off to your leader again?”

“That’s dramatic,” she scoffs. “I was just trying to help.”

He turns away from her. “Well, don’t, I don’t need any help. I don’t need another person trying to take my freedom.”

His words sting and she isn’t sure why. He doesn’t owe her anything. She should only care about him because he’s wielding incredible power that’s been missing for over one hundred years without an explanation, and no other reason. But that’s not it. 

“My mother—the person who trained me—she’d really like to meet you,” Ladybug says, walking around him to try and catch his eyes. “She isn’t going to take the miraculous from you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“And I’m supposed to trust you?” He refuses to look at her.

“She thinks you must be very brave. She just wants to help you, show you how to protect yourself. How to use your new powers for good.”

“That wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to take my freedom under the guise of ‘protection’.”

She doesn’t know what to say to that.

“Aren’t you at all curious as to how I found you?” she eventually asks, wringing her hands.

“Did you microchip me when you had me pinned to the ground last week?”

“I can feel you.”

He turns around abruptly, eyes wide with confusion. “You can feel me?”

She nods. “I knew exactly when you transformed. Just this feeling at the back of my mind, like my brain was itchy. And this—this tugging. It knew exactly where you were."

“What does that mean?”

Ladybug steps close to him, her toe almost touching his boot. “It means we’re connected. Creation and destruction. We’re halves of a whole.”

He doesn’t move away from her and she takes a chance and gently touches his forearm. 

“That’s...that’s crazy.” He looks away from her but doesn’t pull away. “I don’t even know you.”

“But our miraculouses know each other.”

“And I suppose that means you want to take me away again? You think that being connected—or whatever it is we are—means I need to be trained with you?”

“No.” There’s a loud clap of thunder overhead and the sky starts to weep. She pulls the umbrella over their heads, protecting them both. “I think it means we were destined to meet. I think it means we’re meant to help each other.”

They stand together in silence, the soft tapping of rain against nylon the only sound.

“I know you don’t trust me,” Ladybug breaks “and I don’t blame you. But I’m here for you. You don’t have to be alone.” She takes his hand and wraps it around the umbrella’s handle, curling his fingers beneath her own. “I think you need this more than I do.”

She’s gone before he can get his mouth to work.

* * *

_ Two Months Later _

“So you’re telling me there are even  _ more _ miraculouses?” With his legs languidly stretched out in front of him and hands tucked under his head, he’s the essence of a contented cat.   
  
Ladybug giggles. “Yes. Each with their own special ability.”

“That’s—that’s incredible. Do you know them all?”

“I do,” she nods. “I’ve been studying the miraculous for years. Although,” she scrunches her nose “I’m more unfamiliar with yours. The butterfly miraculous too. They’ve been gone for so long, it’s hard to have good information on them.”   


“Wow.” His feet fall rhythmically side-to-side. “So this really is your life, huh?”

Her fingers twitch in her lap. “I guess so, yeah.”

“You must know everything really well.”

“I wouldn’t say  _ really  _ well, but I do what I—”

“Could you teach me?”

She’s startled by the question. In all the time they’ve spent together, he’s never once asked her for help.

“You want me to teach you?” she repeats dumbly.

“Is it really that surprising?” He sits up on his elbows, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. “You know all about the miraculous and I can barely extend my baton without hitting myself in the face. I could use all the help I can get.”

She bites her lower lip, suddenly uncomfortable meeting his eyes. “You really trust me that much?”

He looks at her fondly, uninhibited while her gaze is so far away. “I guess I do.”  


* * *

_ Three Months Later _

Ladybug has to press her hands to her mouth to keep herself from audibly laughing. “Are you okay up there?”

“No,” he wails, hands clutching the branch of the tree his body threatens to fall from.

She shakes her head “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights, _mon_ _chaton_.”

“Hey!” The leaves shake as he twists his body to look down at her. “I am  _ not _ your kitten. I’m a free agent. Strong and independent!”

“This is what happens when you don’t give me a name to call you.” She winks at him, hands on her hip in mock exasperation. “Good luck getting down, Mr. Strong-and-Independent.”

“No, wait!” He lets his head hang, arms tightening around the branch as he sighs heavily. “Please help me down.”

Ladybug throws her yoyo, guiding it to wrap around the branch directly above the one he’s clutching. She leaps to his side and crouches down by his face, softly smiling. He’s transfixed by her eyes, shimmering in the orange light of dusk.

“Hold on tight.” She grasps his hand and directs his arm around her waist. “I’ve got you.”

He gulps and pries his gaze away from her, ignoring the heat that blooms in his palm. There are two layers of magical suits between them, but nothing can dampen the electric shocks he feels at their casual touches.

“Are you going to swing us both down?”

She pulls tight on the yoyo string to check it’s still secure around the branch. “If I do all the work, how will you ever learn?” 

“Learn what, exactly? How to break all my bones in three easy steps?”

“So dramatic,” Ladybug tsks. “Pull out your staff and hold it vertically. Good,” she praises when he does it with minimal fuss. “Now, breathe. Let your mind gloss over all the thoughts in your head. Treat them like the noisy chattering at a party. You don’t have to ignore them completely, but let them become the background.”

He squeezes his eyes tightly, brows furrowing in concentration.

“Not so hard, kitty.” She presses a finger to his forehead, smoothing out the wrinkles. “This isn’t open heart surgery.” 

Frustrated, he breathes out a puff of warm air. “I’m trying too hard?”

“Yes,” she says. “Let the command float to the top of your thoughts. Encourage it to lengthen. Envision exactly what you want it to do and let that image rise over the white noise.”

“You make it sound so effortless.”

“Once you bond with your weapon, it will be, I promise. You just haven’t formed that relationship yet.”

“I didn’t realize controlling the baton would be like training a pet,” he says wryly.

“It’s more like an extension of yourself than a pet. Like another limb.”

“Shouldn’t it be more intuitive, then?”

“You have to build up that intuition first.” She nudges him with her shoulder. “Just try.”

He looks dubious, but does as she asks, holding the staff out in front of him and pulling away from the swirling mass of thoughts that curl inside his mind.  _ The slightly sweet smell of Ladybug’s hair and the firm press of her side against his. The way the branch shakes with each shift of their bodies. His fear of losing the only freedom he’s had for years.  _ The thoughts churn like the deepest level of the sea, the undercurrent rumbling at the bottom of a chasm. He focuses his attention on the top layer of consciousness. The place where waves break over the surface, forming full and coherent sentences rather than vague notions and feelings. He tries to float, keep himself suspended where he can still breathe air.

He imagines the staff expanding. Pictures the bottom planted securely in the dirt, light bouncing off the silver material. He feels how its weight will shift as its center of gravity lowers and wills it to happen.

“Look,” Ladybug’s soft voice calls to him.

“I did it.” He’s breathless. “I did it!”

She lays a hand on his arm and squeezes, smiling widely. “You did. Now you have to trust it. Let go of me and the tree and know your staff will catch you. Let it guide you to the ground.”

His eyes are locked on his hers as he releases the branch and untwines his arm from her waist. 

He lets himself fall.

* * *

_ Four Months Later _   
  
“Call me Chat Noir.”

“Really scraping the bottom of the creativity barrel, are we?”

He scoffs. “Says the girl who named herself  _ Ladybug _ .”

“Hey!” She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “I became a miraculous wielder at like nine years old. I’m sure you weren’t winning any awards for imagination then either.”

“I’ll have you know I was a brilliant nine-year-old. They still speak of my genius to this day.”

“Lucky for you, I can’t track them down now and show them a video of you crashing into a streetlamp because you forgot how to walk.”

“And lucky for  _ you _ ,” he pushes her with little force. “I can’t tattle to your parents about what a huge bully you are.”

Her shoulders shake as she tries to hold in a laugh and she flops onto the ground, limbs sprawled out around her.

“You could, you know,” Ladybug says. “You could know my family.”

“What?”

“Like I tried to show you when we first met. You could meet them. We could know each other.”

His mouth hangs open as he stares at her uncomprehendingly. “But—I—what?”

She sits up and rests a hand against his arm. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. I’m not trying to push you.”

Why doesn’t he want her to know again? He thinks back on their first meeting. How his stomach was in his throat and his heart felt raw. How he’d tried to cover himself in a layer of flippant jokes and insincerity. He was alone in the world and determined to keep himself that way. Being alone meant freedom. It was permission to act without restraint, to not be hindered by rules he didn’t agree to and a life he didn’t sign up for. It was existence out from underneath someone’s thumb.

But it was also terribly lonely. 

He’d tried to convince himself that as long as he was the one walking away, he’d never feel abandoned, never feel rejected. But that was a lie.

He desperately wants the home Ladybug offers. The chance at being cared for and loved. The warmth of a hand on your back, guiding you through the unknown.

“I don’t think I’m ready,” he says and she nods in understanding. “But I want to be.”

* * *

_ Five Months Later _

  
It takes several training sessions before he’s finally mastered the art of destruction.

Ladybug works with him tirelessly, always carrying extra wheels of cheese so he can recharge in a nearby alley without compromising his anonymity and he can try again. She covers her eyes so she can’t see which direction he’s gone to detransform and he has to actively talk himself out of falling for her more.   
  
She’s endlessly patient, answering all of his questions about the miraculouses and demonstrating what she can. She shows him how to use his staff as a shield and spars with him regularly, praising him on his natural fighting ability. He doesn’t tell her about his years of fencing experience, basking in the admiration of innate talent. She shows him how to focus his power on something small and delicate, and helps him control the overwhelming destructive impulse he feels at cataclysming something large and imposing. 

“It’s all about concentration,” Ladybug says, hands positioning his elbows carefully. “You have to stay focused, but malleable. If you’re too rigid, the magic will be as well and you won’t be able to mold it into shape.”

His tongue pokes out from his lips and his brow furrows. “Focused but relaxed, got it.” 

“Good. Now when you call for the power, let it centralize on your fingertips. Feel the destruction coat the surface of your skin, like a callus. It’ll give you the most control.”

“And then what?”

“And then let some out.” She mimes the flow of energy leaving his body by dragging her fingers down his forearm and through to his fingertips. “Direct it exactly where you want it to go. You’re its master. Don’t let it go beyond what you’re trying to destroy. Choose its path. Select its destruction”

Chat Noir’s eyelids flutter shut as he takes a steadying breath. He can feel the anticipation building, the destruction pooling in his stomach as it prepares to be called. It stretches and contracts, tingling like the first sip of a fizzy drink. It wants to burst from its cavern, disintegrate anything it touches. He isn’t sure he can control it once released.

“You can do this,” Ladybug whispers, squeezing him gently before her reassuring touch leaves him.

He nods, trying to convince himself more than her.   
  
Gathering his confidence, he calls forth destruction, the familiar dangerous thrill warming his body. He coaxes it to the tips of his fingers, trying to calm it as the inky, black power bubbles off the ends of his claws. 

Raising his hand to the chain-link fence in front of him, he touches a singular wire and watches it disintegrate before his eyes.

The rest of the fence remains untouched. Where the other wires bent and twisted around the one destroyed, a hole forms, zig-zagging and jagged. But they don’t dissolve from the touch of destruction, just as pristine and silver as before he made contact.

Power sputters in his hand, extinguishing with one last puff of crackling energy.

Chat Noir feels exhausted. Holding so much power back—restraining its consuming impulse—is draining, but he’s done it. He’s finally done it.

His shoulders droop and he feels boneless when Ladybug comes up to his side, throwing her arms around him.

“You did it!” she says, holding him close. “Selective destruction! I knew you could.”

He welcomes her praise and touch, losing himself in the casual affection. “I did it.”

They’re silent for a moment, sharing air and space and warmth.

It’s his beeping miraculous that jars them out of their embrace.

“Oh,” Ladybug startles, releasing her hold on him. “I guess we should be done for the day. You and your kwami need to recharge.”

Chat Noir nods, but stops her before she can leap away. “What if...what if we stayed with you to recharge?”   
  
Her eyes widen and she searches his gaze for any doubt in his sincerity. “Are you sure?”

“I want you to know.” He grasps her hand. “I want you to know who I am.”

She smiles, interlacing their fingers. “Okay.”

“Plagg, cla—”

He’s cut off by a loud crash and several screams, car horns honking and tires skidding. Ladybug pulls him to her and runs to the edge of the clearing, her body stiff and primed for an attack.

“What’s going on?” he asks, pulse jumping.   
  
She’s tense, almost shaking in her apprehension. “I don’t know.” The ground quakes beneath them and they clutch each other tighter, another beep ringing in their ears. A deep roar booms in front of them and a large creature of stone and rock pulverizes a lamp as it tramps out from behind a building. “Oh no.”

“What is it?” Chat Noir asks frantically, looking around them for cover before Ladybug pushes him behind her.

“You need to go!” she says, using her body to shield his from sight. “Go, recharge! Come back as soon as possible.”

“Ladybug, what’s happening?” He’s desperate and clinging to her bicep, fear lodging in his throat.

“It’s going to be okay, Chat, but please go recharge. I need you.”

“Not until you _ tell me what’s going on _ .”   
  
The creature finally takes notice of them and his heavy steps are in their direction, cars and benches and bushes crushed beneath him.

“The missing miraculous,” her eyes don’t leave the stone being “It’s back.”

* * *

They’re exhausted by the end of the battle, their muscles strained in a way they never have before. Chat Noir rests his head in Ladybug’s lap, her fingers gently combing through his hair, attempting to soothe his nerves. He recharged again after the akuma’s defeat, but can’t help feeling like they’re relaxing on borrowed time. That at any moment they’ll be forced apart, ambushed in another attack.

Even knowing each other so well, working together to hone their skills for months, they’re not prepared for the rise of a supervillain.

“So,” Chat Noir says, hands twitching on his stomach. “I guess this means we’re not as safe as we thought.”

“Chat,” her fingers pause in his hair. “I don’t think we can share our identities anymore.”   
  
He jolts upright. “Why not?” 

“It’s not safe. Hawkmoth could target our families. Go after our friends. Everyone we love and care about.”  
  
“What if everyone I love and care about is sitting in front of me right now?”  
  
Ladybug pleads with him. “I could never jeopardize your safety. We can’t—we can’t do this.”

He can’t meet her eyes anymore, finding solace in the lights of Paris spread out below them. “I get it.” His throat is tight and scratchy and he _ doesn’t _ get it—not really. But he knows she’s doing what she thinks is right and he’d follow her to the ends of the earth.

“But I want to.” She tilts his head up with a finger under his chin. “I want it so much,  _ chaton _ .” 

He grasps the hand on his chin and holds it against his cheek, drawing comfort from the cool press of her suit on his skin. “I’d do anything for you, my lady.”

“Would you keep yourself a secret from me?” Her thumb strokes the edge of his mask and she shivers when his lips burn a kiss into her palm. “Would you let me stay a secret from you?”

He shakes his head. “You’re not a secret—not to me. Just because I don’t know your name doesn’t mean I don’t know  _ you _ . I don’t need to see the bridge of your nose to know who you are. I don’t need any of that.”

Their faces are only centimeters apart, breaths intermingling in the space between them.

“What do you need, then?” she whispers, tentative hope lining her words in a bid for selfish bliss.

His nose just barely grazes her own. “You.”

Her lips seal over his in a promise.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me @jattendschaton on tumblr!


End file.
